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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27862758">all this emptiness inside (can’t fill the void in my mind)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldpapertowns/pseuds/oldpapertowns'>oldpapertowns</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>chemical christmas 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Apathy, Depression, Ficlet, Gen, Hopeful Ending, M/M, but - Freeform, chemical christmas, cure depression, or it was supposed to be, strong relationships can make it easier, the zukka is minor and serves as a reminder that nothing can actually like, there is a buttload of apathy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:09:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27862758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldpapertowns/pseuds/oldpapertowns</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zuko doesn’t remember going to the coffeeshop and getting coffee. Or refilling his car’s gas tank, or doing his laundry.</p><p>But then he’s sitting on his bedroom floor, staring at nothing, unable to make himself do anything. The vibrating of his phone shakes him out of his stupor, and he watches his hand reach out. Not entirely tethered to his body, he sees the calling screen and the name ‘Uncle’ written across the screen. He lets it ring, thumb hovering over the green button, then moves his thumb to the red button and jams his finger downwards.</p><p>The phone stops ringing. Zuko tosses his phone back on the ground.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iroh &amp; Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang &amp; Zuko (Avatar), Zuko/Sokka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>chemical christmas 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>all this emptiness inside (can’t fill the void in my mind)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>day 4 of chemical christmas - waves! prompt list by @saintmichale_ on instagram</p><p>title taken from ‘paranoid’ by i prevail</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Zuko wakes up and realizes he doesn’t want to get out of bed. He doesn’t want to do anything, apathy making a home in his bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he has shit to do, appearances to keep up, so he grits his teeth and pulls himself up and forces his feet to carry him to the dresser, pulling on a shirt and a random hoodie next to him. He walks into the bathroom, brushes his teeth and his hair on autopilot, then looks in the mirror and stares his reflection in the eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks like shit, Zuko realizes, looking at the bags below his eyes, the pallid color of his face. But he can’t bring himself to care, exhaustion weighing down his every move and thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko doesn’t remember going to the coffeeshop and getting coffee. Or refilling his car’s gas tank, or doing his laundry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he’s sitting on his bedroom floor, staring at nothing, unable to make himself do anything. The vibrating of his phone shakes him out of his stupor, and he watches his hand reach out. Not entirely tethered to his body, he sees the calling screen and the name ‘Uncle’ written across the screen. He lets it ring, thumb hovering over the green button, then moves his thumb to the red button and jabs his finger downwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The phone stops ringing. Zuko tosses his phone back on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ought to feel guilty, ashamed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>something,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but all he feels is empty. He’s a husk of a person, going through familiar everyday motions without any of the emotion he’d felt before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Sokka can’t burst through his bubble with his brilliant smile, which turns into a frown the moment he comes home to find Zuko still sitting on the floor, staring at the corner of the room with dead eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the days or weeks or months go by, red notifications start piling up on Zuko’s messaging app, random texts from his friends going ignored. The previously amicable texts turn worried, because it’s unlike Zuko to never respond, but Zuko throws his phone to the side and closes his eyes, ignoring the occasional knocking that had started maybe ten minutes ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zuko,” comes Sokka’s voice from the other side of the door, worried and pleading. “Baby, talk to me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Zuko. Let me help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko’s stomach rumbles and he ignores it, ignores it like how he’s been ignoring his unwashed hair, ignoring the tears falling down his face for no good reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zuko,” Sokka’s voice cracks, and there’s a thump against the door. Zuko turns to face the door and sees something obstructing the light from the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s night already? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another fucking day of doing nothing,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks. He’d tear into himself if he had the energy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a harder thunk against the door, like Sokka had hit his head against it from where he’s sitting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko can’t find the energy to get out of bed, body betraying him. It takes far too long, moving stiffly from one position to the next until he’s finally standing, but he’s gotten out of bed for the first time since… (He doesn’t know how many days it’s been.) Since he’d locked himself in the bedroom, locking Sokka out in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko shuffles over and unlocks the door with a click, opening it to find Sokka laying in front of it, furrows between his eyebrows even in his dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should feel something, he thinks as he stares down at Sokka. Inhaling. Exhaling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t, so he makes his way into the bathroom and strips, getting into the shower and letting the water scald his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing up is too much effort, so he sits in the tub and tries to drown out the voices in his head with the water still spouting from the showerhead. He thinks, staring down at the water puddling in the bathtub, that there’s some kind of symbolism in the moment. Something about how he’s watching waves crash down on his head but not being able to control his floating body, unable to sink or swim, just stuck in a miserable fucking limbo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sokka finds him some time later, cold water cascading around him as he stares down at the ripples.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Zuko forgot to lock the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zuko,” Sokka says in a strangled near-sob, reaching into the tub and picking Zuko up, uncaring of the immediate soaking of his clothes as he hugs Zuko to his chest and turns off the water. “Zuko, baby, how long have you been here, the water is fucking freezing, you’re- you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>shaking,</span>
  </em>
  <span> baby, what-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am?” Zuko asks, voice hoarse. He doesn’t feel cold, but when he thinks about it, his body’s shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And being wrapped in an overly large towel that he knows belongs to Sokka, tears running down the owner’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next few days go by in a blur, but Sokka is a constant factor in all of them, including the one where Zuko sits at a table and stares at the tiny pill in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them speak, Sokka trying for a supportive smile as Zuko raises his hand to his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts the pill in his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takes a sip of water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forces himself to swallow the pill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinks of the worried faces of his friends, Sokka, his Uncle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They love you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he reminds himself as Sokka wraps him in a tight hug. He lets his head list into Sokka’s body. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They care.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes down on the thought that he’s weak for caving in, for letting himself be diagnosed and prescribed the pills he’d dreaded for so long. Fights the urge to flush the pills down the drain and insist that he’s fine, that he doesn’t need medicine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Sokka hasn’t broken them up yet, even with all the worry Zuko’s caused him. If anything, he seems more than sure to be in the relationship for the long haul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because his friends hadn’t sneered at him or pushed him away due to the diagnosis, rather giving him a massive hug that had made a few tears fall from his eyes. After, Toph had raised an eyebrow at him and pointed to her eyes, then hugged him tightly and punched his shoulder with a threat to not scare her like that </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever again, Sparky.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Uncle had simply grabbed Zuko and held on tight for what seemed to be ten minutes, words not needing to be exchanged in order for gratitude to get across.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zuko doesn’t have to hold his head high all the time, doesn’t have to pretend that he’s always doing great. He has people who care about him, who love him, and it’s taken him a stupidly long time to see that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things aren’t too great now, but they’ll start looking up soon. And he’s okay with that, with waiting, because he has friends and family who will help keep him on his feet. And he won’t forget it this time around.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>general frame of events taken from i prevail’s ‘breaking down’ music video, which i’ve watched countless times to remind myself that i’m not alone, that getting help doesnt mean the end of the world</p><p>if you’ve read this, thank you. stay safe.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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